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She Said No
I don't believe that I have the capacity to continue on this way. My mind is filled with thoughts of the horridly mundane and terribly fatalistic. Thoughts that don't subside, that will not let up. They berate me constantly, and the only way I can escape them is either through music or with plenty of Benadryl. I can't even escape them with video-games, as most of my collection is comprised of shooters or action/role-playing, leaving plenty of time for my mind to wander back into the abyss. She said no. And left. We first met in high school. She was a year ahead of me, and, of course, it was in art class where many of the outsiders or under-performers congregated for an easy credit. She painted the most beautiful of portraits, mostly abstract, rarely realistic. Her drawings were anime in style, which is how we initially bonded for the first few weeks, discussing shows and manga like Naruto or Bleach. She wasn't deeply invested into anime like I was, so when I brought up the old Berserk, Gin Tama, or Yu Yu Hakusho the conversation would steer back into Death Note or, weirdly, Skyrim. We started a friendship that would become the anchor in the hurricane season of my life. Every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday we would meet in the art room on the western side of the school building. The room had an open garden next to it. It was nothing huge, only big enough to give the agriculture class room to grow their plants. The art teacher thought this would produce more “creative intuition” in his students, and it wasn't far from the truth. I noticed after nearly three months that my work was more varied, but some of my fellow members were still maneuvering in their limited art-scapes. But, I would usually sit down on the grass next to her, and we began work on a landscape piece. We would throw arguments back and forth, debating for a beach, the universe, or maybe a made up field in a fantasy world. All in good faith, as we would end up with a dream like vision splattered on paper. And we had fun like this for about three years. It was when she graduated that I realized just how alone I truly felt in my heart. I would end up eating alone at lunch, dropping out of the art club, and slipping in my grades. I was pathetic and miserable through out my senior year. In a time where normal people would be planning for college, starting a career, or enjoying their final year, I was mulling in depression and nursing a broken heart, and, as I said, it showed. I can barely recall how many times I heard the phrase “Aren't meeting your potential”. She said no. And left. I had been to her house several times before. It was much nicer and even more spacious than my family's, and it was no surprise that I was there often. We grew closer with ever sleepover, Halloween party, and hang outs. I thought I read all the signals correctly, and that we were growing stronger than friends. But she said no. And left. It wasn't that I was mean, I was quite nice, she said. It wasn't that I was fat, I was pretty fit, she said. It wasn't that I was bland, my personality was very funny and entertaining, she said. It wasn't that I was not pretty, she called me beautiful. But that was it. I was beautiful, not handsome. Not tall nor dark. But a woman. I was a woman, but so was she, and it can't be that way to her. Not to her, the woman I had loved since the day we met. Sharing the same interests, the same favorites, the same food, clothes, shows, comics, video-games, cats, dogs, everything. But because I didn't have dick between my thighs, it automatically disqualified me in the lover department. I left her house that day, just barely vowing to never see her again through a torrent of tears and mucus. I must have looked disgusting, so it isn't a wonder that she never responded to my texts soon after. I wanted to die. I wanted her to die. I'm still thinking of swallowing that bottle of my mom's heart medication to drift out of my personal Hell. There can't be a God, only eternal darkness. If there was, she would have said yes, and I, a murderer and traitor to humanity, wouldn't be locked in a room, staring into the milky white eyes of the only one I've ever loved. She's never looked so beautiful. She said no. But, now she could never leave. Credited to: D'aetheyleid Category:Mental Illness